


but we might just get away with it

by Kerasines



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female Billy Hargrove, Female Steve Harrington, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jealousy, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Pining, Step-Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerasines/pseuds/Kerasines
Summary: Billy hates that Steve and Max are friends. Hates herself for thinking like that, too. Hates to admit to herself that she’s jealous, so damn jealous she feels like punching a hole through her windshield at the sight of the two of them together, at the mere thought that they both vastly prefer each other’s company to Billy’s, and she doesn’t even know which of them she’s jealous of.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	but we might just get away with it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kate_button](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_button/gifts).



> I wrote this for Katie's birthday over a year ago, and it was the first fic I ever finished and probably one of my fave things I ever wrote, and now I finally got around to fleshing out the ending like I always wanted and posting it! Big thank you to Jen for the great and super fast beta job back then!

Billy doesn’t actually _mean_ to be such a fucking asshole to Harrington all the time.

It’s just that anytime she gets close to her, her brain kind of. Stops working. Is too busy trying _not to stare_ , which never works, really, which means her defense mechanisms are activated, and her defense mechanism is, unfortunately, to be an asshole. And to flirt, which honestly makes the whole thing even worse, although she’s pretty sure nobody’s picking up on _that_ part, at least.

It’s the only excuse she has for cornering Steve in the shower.

Again.

Billy has felt riled up all day, itching to lash out at someone ever since this morning. She can still feel Neil’s hand in her hair where he grabbed her and pulled hard, making her _listen, for once, you ungrateful brat_. She knows what that means. Sees it for what it is, an involuntary warning shot for worse to come, knows he’ll snap for real sometime in the next few days, as soon as she fucks up and gives him an excuse.

Better to let her aggression out on someone else, really, push someone else around so she’ll be able to keep her damn mouth shut at home.

So by the time basketball practice has started, and Steve’s there in her stupid shorts, all long legs and thick thighs, hair flowing down her shoulders, Billy knows she won’t be able to stay quiet. Not when Steve scores on her because she’s distracted. Because she can’t keep her eyes off of girls, no matter how much she tries, can’t fucking _stop_. Not in class, not during practice. Definitely not now in the shower, god, the other girls on the team soaping up next to her without a care in the world, chatting away, oblivious to Billy trying not to watch them.

But _Steve_. Steve, with her pale skin all wet and on display. Steve, who looked at her smugly after she stole the ball away from her and scored. It’s too tempting to give into the impulse to take her down a peg. Not to have to pretend that her attention is focused on anything but her right now.

“Nice score, Harrington,” she snarks after Steve lifts her head, mouth quirking up as she adds, “If only you weren’t such a shitty player the rest of the time.”

She’s not a shitty player. They both know she’s one of the best on the team. They both also know that Billy’s better, though, so.

“Fuck you, Hargrove,” Steve growls back, barely rolling her eyes, but Billy’s not finished with her yet, needs a reaction, needs to scratch that itch.

She fake-gasps, “Damn, baby, the mouth on you! You’ll never find a good husband with that kind of talk. We all know you like boys that are _way_ too nice for you.”

And, okay, bringing up Nate Wheeler might be a bit much, but Billy just. Can’t help herself. Remembers what it was like to watch them together in the beginning. Even worse, having to watch a boring little bitch like Wheeler treat Steve like garbage in the end. Men are the fucking _worst_ , and Billy wishes women everywhere would finally get it. Including Steve. Especially Steve.

Steve, who looks at her with defiance and _hurt_ written all over her face now, lips pressed together.

“Awww, shit, don’t be sad. Tits like yours, I’m sure you’ll find a husband,” she coos, letting her eyes drop to Steve’s perfect fucking chest deliberately. When she looks up, Steve’s face is flushed red. It’s fucking delicious.

But even through her embarrassment, Steve gives as good as she gets, and maybe Billy should know better than to push her like this because what comes out of her mouth is possibly the worst thing she could have said.

“Been looking at my tits much, Hargrove?”

It’s clearly nothing but an empty defense, no heat behind it, no threat, but Billy’s in her face in an instant, standing close enough to see Steve’s eyes widen slightly. She knows she can be intimidating, even if she can’t loom over Steve like she can with most girls. She’s fought guys taller than her, though, knows how to make the threat clear, and Steve must receive it just fine because she wisely keeps her mouth shut.

Billy tries to tamp down on the panic and red-hot anger. Smothers the spark before it has a chance to turn into a fire as she twists her face into a nasty smile.

“Careful, Harrington,” she tuts. “Careful.”

Then she pats Steve on the cheek, too hard to be friendly. The skin is wet, still flushed pink, and it takes all of Billy’s self-control to turn around and walk out of the showers instead of putting a red handprint on that annoying, pretty face.

⸻

“What's up with you?” Max asks in the car on the way home.

Billy’s been trying, they’ve both been trying to get along with each other, but Max picked the wrong fucking day to make an effort. Billy’s wound too tight, bites out, “None of your fucking business, Maxine,” and grinds down on the gas pedal.

Max snorts. “Yeah, whatever, _Wilhelmina_.”

The wheels screech as Billy jerks the car hard enough to knock Max against the door, making her squeal.

“God, why are you _such_ an asshole!”

Somehow, Billy manages to clench her jaw against the insults wanting to spill out.

She doesn’t _know_ what’s got her like this, her gut twisted up and wound tight like a spring, ready to snap at the smallest provocation. She _never_ knows. She just knows she can’t get a fucking grip on it when she’s like this. Has to let it run its course, get it out by fighting or fucking or taking the Camaro as far away from here as she can and screaming until she can’t anymore.

Except she can’t do any of that, not today, because she has to cart her step-sister around, even though Max is old enough to drive herself and has been begging her mom for a car for two fucking years. But Neil thinks it’s good for Billy to take on more responsibility, to drive Max to school and back home, to the arcade, to wherever the fuck she needs to go. Says it builds character, says a young woman shouldn’t spend all her free time lazing around, says she’s out of control.

Says that maybe if she spends more time with her sister, she’ll learn to be better, like Max is.

As if Max isn’t just as out of control as she is, just as brash and rude and aggressive, just as rowdy and loud and _boyish_. All the things Billy thought were the reasons she would never be good enough for her dad, and yet. Somehow. Somehow, Max is the daughter Neil always wanted.

Apparently Neil can tell there’s something wrong with Billy that runs deeper than her lack of manners or her refusal to wear dresses or her wanting to be called by a boy’s name. And, well. It’s not like Billy can blame him.

Can’t blame Max, either, she knows that, but. She feels like she’s about to explode sometimes when she looks at her.

And pushing Max away, directing her anger the wrong way, picking fights with her – it’s better than noticing the red of her lips, the flow of her hair, the freckles on her skin.

Looking at Steve Harrington is bad. But it’s not the worst Billy’s done.

So she ignores the way Max turns away from her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, anger barely masking the hurt.

Says, “I’m allowed to be an asshole, shitbird. I’m older than you, s’not my fault you won’t listen to me.” Knows it’ll get her riled up. Knows how to get her to stop worrying, stop caring.

“ _One week older_ doesn’t count!”

“It counts if I’m a year ahead of you in school,” Billy counters, sweetly. Like a real bitch.

“Whatever. At least I’m not an asshole.”

She’s out the door as soon as Billy pulls up in front of the house, leaving her to sit there and feel like shit. Feel like she’s gonna choke on guilt, on top of the anger that’s been churning her insides all day.

⸻

Billy almost turns around again when she rounds the corner and sees Harrington leaning against her locker, caged in by Jack fucking Wright, of all the shitty guys in this shitty town, smarmy grin plastered all over his face.

She doesn’t need to watch Steve flirt with this slimebag, but something about the way she’s standing makes Billy keep walking down the hall toward them.

And it’s a good thing she does, too.

Steve’s obviously not interested, body language loud and clear, but of course Jack’s not listening. Just keeps babbling something about his new car, as if Steve’s gonna be impressed enough to go for a ride with him, Jesus. He tried the same thing on Billy twice before, then turned around and spread rumors about her when she told him where to stick it; she’s _this_ close to punching him in the face for being so goddamn annoying.

Just when Billy reaches them, pissed off and not sure what her plan is here, Steve spots her over Jack’s shoulder and straightens up.

“I’m _not interested_ , leave me alone. Please.” Her voice is carefully flat, not too annoyed, not too provocative. Billy hates it. It’s nothing like the fire Steve shoots back at her when Billy pushes too far.

“What? I’m not even doing anything, c’mon, Stephanie.”

Steve opens her mouth, but Billy’s faster. “Fuck off, Jack,” she says, smile wide when he turns around.

She’s happy to see that she’s gained enough of a reputation at this shitty school for him to flinch before getting himself under control and scowling at her. It makes her grin widen.

“ _You_ fuck off, Hargrove.”

Billy licks her teeth. “No, actually, I’ll stay right here, thanks.”

“We’re having a conversation, right?” he glares, turning to Steve.

Steve raises her eyebrows, looks him up and down, and finally says, “Not really, no.”

Billy laughs at Jack’s pissed-off face, laughs even harder when he shoves her and she shoves back, just as hard, barely moving his broad shoulders. Everything around her is in sharp focus now, primed for a fight, and she doesn’t stop to think when he advances on her, just pulls her fist back and punches him right in his ugly face.

Fuck, _yeah_ , that’s the stuff.

She shakes her hand out while Jack swears up a storm.

“You crazy bitch!” he yelps, voice muffled by his hand, blood stuffing his nose. “You’re both fucking crazy!”

Billy stares him down, daring him to give her a reason for another punch. Barely hears the teacher hurrying down the hall, yelling about detention over the blood rushing in her ears.

Then she’s being pulled away from him, bowing her head to look at her hands while Jack’s being sent off to see the nurse. She’s shaking with adrenaline, knuckles bruised. She’s buzzing, everything still kind of numb. “Shit, my old man’s gonna kill me,” she mumbles to no one in particular, once it registers in her head.

She knows she won’t get anything worse than detention at school, not once she puts on her sad-girl face and explains that she was simply oh-so-scared of big, bad Jack hurting her and Steve. At home, though, well. Neil knows her better than that.

Steve reaches for her hand, fingers gentle, a feather-light touch that shoots sparks through Billy’s body, bringing her back to reality.

“Thanks,” Steve says, jerking her hand back like she only just realized what she was doing. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Billy looks up, and there’s a calculating wonder on Steve’s face, as if she’s trying to figure out where this fits into her picture of Billy. Billy’s not sure if she’s happy about that or not, and tries to smother the warmth in her chest with a derisive laugh.

“He’s a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t expect you to help me, though...thought you hated me.”

Billy doesn’t dare to correct her but can’t bring herself to lie and agree either, so she shrugs, “You didn’t deserve that. I fucking hate men. If he gives you any more trouble, let me know, okay?”

She feels vulnerable when Steve looks surprised. Careful, tentative. Still trying to figure something out. She’s gonna get burned at this rate, and Billy won’t do anything to stop her.

“You’d do that? For me?”

In a heartbeat. With pleasure. “I’d do that for any girl. But...yeah.”

Later, when they serve detention together, Billy can’t even spare a thought for Neil’s reaction once she gets home. Because Steve enters the classroom, walks right by all the empty seats, sits down at the desk next to Billy, and shoots her a tiny, shy, hopeful little smile. Billy knows she’s completely out of her depth here, and for once, she’s kind of fine with that.

⸻

Billy drops Max off at the arcade on the way home a few days later. Max is wearing her hair up in a rare bun because she was too lazy to wash it last night, and Billy’s been trying not to stare at her neck all day.

Which, _god_ , it’s just a _neck_ , but it’s usually covered up by her thick, red hair, so seeing it so open and vulnerable, soft skin begging to be – _Jesus_ – it does something to Billy.

Makes it hard to look away, for some reason.

They usually don’t even see much of each other at school. Max is a grade below her despite being the same age, so they don’t share any classes. But Max was everywhere today: standing next to her locker during break, sitting at the table next to her at lunch, lurking right in front of her in the library during free period.

Like a fucking temptation just for Billy, but even worse because Steve Harrington must have either gotten new jeans or put on weight overnight, her thighs filling out her pants even better than usual.

Billy has a hard time keeping her mind and eyes off of girls on a good day, but today she feels like a fucking creep.

Staring at Steve’s ass and Max’s neck all day. The girl she once almost beat up and her own _step-sister_ , both of whom can’t stand her most of the time. Except Billy's not even sure if that's exactly true anymore. Thinks maybe Steve told Max about what happened, because they've both been less annoyed with her ever since, less hostile. Even cautiously friendly, maybe.

All because she so selflessly helped Steve.

If only they knew.

Max is out of the car as soon as the wheels come to a stop, and Billy yells after her to be out by six. Watches her cross the parking lot to where Steve’s just getting out of her car in those fucking jeans, and they walk toward the arcade together to meet up with the other nerds.

Billy hates that Steve and Max are friends. Hates herself for thinking like that, too.

Hates to admit to herself that she’s jealous, so damn jealous she feels like punching a hole through her windshield at the sight of the two of them together, at the mere thought that they both vastly prefer each other’s company to Billy’s, and she doesn’t even know which of them she’s jealous of.

⸻

Neil and Susan are out on a school night, which means Billy and Max are stuck at home, trying to ignore each other to maintain the peace. Or at least that’s Billy’s reason.

She’s contemplating sneaking out just to spite her dad – even though there’s absolutely nothing to do in this shithole of a town – when Max knocks on her door.

Knocks and even waits for Billy’s answer before she comes in, immediately setting Billy’s nerves on edge. Max usually just barges in as if she owns the place, no matter how often Billy yells at her about it.

She looks exactly like she always does when she has a really bad idea and knows it, eyes wide with anxiety but a determined fire burning behind them.

Billy stares at her until she comes out with it.

“I heard Neil call you a–,” she swallows. “I heard what he calls you.”

Billy feels her face harden. Stares some more. She knows exactly what Neil likes to call her when he’s angry and can’t fucking believe Max would bring it up to her face. Doesn’t know _why_ she would.

Max shifts uncomfortably, losing her bravery by the second, but she still manages to get out, quieter than Billy’s ever heard her speak before, “Are you really?”

A cold shiver runs down her spine, pavlovian reaction to the challenge this question usually carries, the danger.

Normally Billy would punch anyone in the face for even suggesting it, but Max looks so...insecure. There’s no malice on her face, no disgust in her quiet voice. She just looks down at Billy with nervous, pleading eyes, and, _fuck_ , Billy has a sinking feeling she knows where this is going.

“Yes.”

Max’s eyes widen, and Billy can see something settle in her as she walks over to sit next to her on the bed, looks down at her hands in silence before she raises her voice again. Billy looks away, waiting for her to say something. Her heart is pounding even though she’s pretty sure her hunch was right.

“Have you ever… kissed a girl? For real, I mean.”

“For real, huh?” Billy tries to smirk, thinking she might pass out if she thinks too much about talking like this under Neil’s roof to his step-daughter. “Yeah, I have.”

“Can you show me?”

Billy’s head whips over, not sure if she heard her right. “Show you?”

“How to kiss a girl.”

Max raises her head to meet her eyes, and, shit, Billy knows she won’t say no.

Because she knows for a fact that Max doesn’t need kissing lessons. She’s almost eighteen. She’s kissed plenty of boys, Billy knows. She’s fucked some of them, too. This isn’t about learning how to kiss, it’s about kissing a girl. It’s about choking on a desire inside of you until you finally find a way to let it out. It’s about wanting, _needing_ to figure yourself out. Billy knows. She’s been there.

Thinks she should have noticed it before, should have seen it, could have helped Max deal with it. She probably had to deal with it alone, and now she’s stuck in fucking Hawkins, can’t even sneak off to queer bars like Billy did when she was trying to figure her shit out.

Billy can’t say no. But more to the point, she doesn’t _want_ to say no.

She’s been trying to ignore this, trying not to look, but she’s not strong enough to hold back now, not when Max is _asking_.

So she leans in and closes the distance, keeping a careful watch on Max’s face, waiting for any sign to stop.

There isn’t one.

She presses a soft kiss against her lips, lets it linger for a few seconds, and then pulls back, studying her face. There’s a blush painting her cheeks pink and something like awe in her eyes when they flutter open.

Billy’s pretty sure she looks about the same; her pulse is racing, and she can’t focus on anything but how soft Max’s lips felt.

The next time, it’s Max who leans in, presses closer, brushes her lips over Billy’s, and lets out a pleased sigh, and Billy’s so fucking gone, never really let herself think about this, but, god, it doesn’t matter, it’s better than she ever could have imagined.

Their lips meet again, and it’s less tentative, more real. Billy moves her lips against Max’s, opens them a little to let her tongue sweep out, and Max gasps, pressing her hot mouth against Billy’s at once, hard.

As bold and direct as always.

Billy can still feel the hesitation, feels her hand trembling when she brings it up to cup Billy’s neck, but once Max puts her mind to something, she goes through with it.

She moves to straddle Billy’s hips with her strong legs and opens her mouth to deepen the kiss, making them both moan.

Billy lets her lead, pushes her tongue in her mouth when she coaxes her, but when Max’s hands start roaming her shoulders and arms and neck, not quite knowing what to do, she takes one of her hands and slowly drags it down her cleavage, puts her own hands back to stroke Max’s hips in encouragement, and lets her explore, palm her tits, feel the weight in her hands. Gasps into her mouth when she teases her nipples through her shirt.

She can feel her own control slipping, she wants to spread Max out on her bed and show her just what two girls can do with each other, and she knows she needs to put a stop to this.

She can’t let this get too heated, has to let Max cool down, come to terms with this.

Figure out what she wants.

This isn’t about Billy.

So she lets the kiss taper off, presses their lips together one last time, then pulls away and leans back on her hands as she smiles at Max.

“Think you got the hang of it, Maxine.”

It’s a sign of just how out of it Max is that she doesn’t even protest the name, and yeah, Billy’s glad she stopped this before it got too far, doesn’t want Max to do something in the heat of the moment that she’ll regret later.

“Right,” Max says a little breathlessly, blush still visible on her freckled cheeks. “Thanks. That was – yeah.”

Billy grins, feeling lighter than she has in days and more turned on than way longer than that.

Max clambers off her lap, and Billy watches her leave the room with one last wondrous look over her shoulder.

⸻

Billy’s working on the Camaro outside the garage, wearing just a tank-top because it’s too hot, her skin sweaty and greasy from all the work, when Steve pulls up in front of the house in her BMW.

She gets out and looks at Billy bent over the hood of her car, half-confused, half-impressed.

“You know how to fix cars?” she asks, eyebrows raised, like a begrudging compliment.

“Sure do. Gotta take care of this beauty, don’t I?”

Billy leans against the car and wipes her hands on a rag as Steve walks a few steps closer to peer under the hood. She isn’t sure how to act now that she’s not actively trying to antagonize Steve anymore.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with this. One time my car broke down, and I had to wait half an hour for the tow truck to show up, another two hours at the garage, and in the end it only took them, like, two minutes to fix whatever was wrong. Wish I could’ve just fixed it myself.”

She’s standing so close that Billy can see the shiny pink gloss covering her lips, smell her perfume over the motor oil. “Well, that’s stupid. Don’t pay them for that shit. Next time, just call me, and I’ll fix you right up.”

Steve looks up at her, tentative. “You’d do that for me?”

Billy falters. Jesus, can she stop offering to do things for Steve?

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll have to take you up on that,” Steve says with a brilliant smile, and Billy goes a bit dumb, can’t do anything but stare, knows she should say something, but holy shit, she’s never had that smile directed at _her_ before.

It’s addictive. She wants to make Steve smile at her like that all the time.

But before either of them can say anything else, Max comes barreling out the front door, greeting Steve and telling Billy she’ll be back before curfew.

And all of a sudden that smile isn’t directed at Billy anymore. Steve’s attention shifts to Max as they walk over to Steve’s car together.

Billy’s stomach churns. Of course she was here for Max. That’s who she’s friends with. There’s no reason for her to come here for Billy. She knows that.

And as she watches them speed away without so much as a goodbye in her direction, she has the horrible thought that maybe there’s a reason Max wanted to know how to kiss a girl. That maybe she really _did_ just want to practice. That maybe she wanted to practice for one girl in particular.

Billy swallows and somehow doesn’t throw a wrench against her car. Pretends the thought doesn’t make her eyes sting and bile rise up in her throat as she gets back to work.

⸻

Billy’s been in a bad mood all day. She knew that picking a fight with Neil wouldn’t help, but she couldn’t stop herself from talking back. From yelling at him even as she braced for the punch she knew was coming.

It wasn’t too bad, not even close to the worst she’s had, and she knows he held back because he doesn’t want to leave marks too deep when she has to go back to school on Monday, but his ring must have split the skin of her cheek, and she’s staring at the smear of blood on her fingers, sitting on the bed and waiting, making sure Neil will be asleep when she sneaks into the kitchen to get the first aid kit.

The door opens, and she startles violently, expecting Neil to have come back, but when she looks up it’s just Max. Her shoulders slump.

Max closes the door quietly and walks over to sit beside her on the bed.

She has a gauze pad in her hand and raises it to Billy’s cheek silently, slowly, looking wary and determined, but Billy doesn’t stop her. Doesn’t lash out, even if she kind of wants to.

The pad smells like it’s soaked in antiseptic, but she lets Max clean the wound, remembering when she taught Max how to take care of her own wounds. Max hadn’t been allowed to go to the skate park but had snuck off anyway, had skinned her knee, and Billy cleaned the wound for her. Showed her how to do it herself next time, how to take care of herself, how to hide the bruises.

It’s like Max is paying her back now, except she’s way more gentle than Billy ever let herself be. 

It’s not a feeling that Billy’s overly familiar with, being taken care of. A part of her wants to yank away, doesn’t know what to do with this, but she can’t stop looking at Max.

The night is quiet around them as Max lowers the gauze from her face, reaching up with her other hand to trace over Billy’s uninjured cheekbone, her eyebrow, her jaw, watching with big eyes as Billy leans into her hand before she finally, mercifully, leans in to kiss Billy.

It’s soft, slow, filled with a desperation that’s been building in Billy for days and days and is now mirrored in Max. She doesn’t know what to say, what to _do_.

Max’s breath hitches, and it almost sounds like a sob when she says, _“Please,”_ and Billy wants to give her everything.

⸻

Billy doesn’t know why Max insisted she join her and Steve to spend the afternoon drinking beer at the Harrington residence. Doesn’t know whether she should be happy about it or not, either. She begrudgingly admits to herself that Max and Steve are, like, her favorite people in Hawkins, or whatever. And it definitely beats sitting at home, imagining whatever they could be doing _without her_.

But it’s just. Awkward.

She’s gotten, uh, _closer_ to Max for sure, and she likes to think Steve likes her at least a little bit since she stopped being such a bitch to her, but she wouldn’t exactly call either of them her friends.

Steve and Max are friends, though, and the ease between them is obvious.

But she’s determined not to ruin this, so she follows them up to Steve’s room with a cold beer in her hand and joins them to sit cross-legged on the bed.

The bed in Steve’s room.

Steve’s bed.

Where she sleeps. And...other things.

Desperately wanting to distract herself, to break the awkwardness instead of making it worse, she’s trying to come up with something to say, anything, when Max speaks up.

“Billy has been teaching me how to kiss a girl,” she announces to Steve, voice too intense to be conversational.

Billy’s heart stops. Then picks up at double the pace.

“What the fuck, Max?”

Steve just stares at them, biting her lip, and Billy feels like she’s missing something. Like maybe Steve understands why Max is doing this better than Billy does. She decidedly doesn’t look confused enough.

“You should teach Steve, too. _Right, Steve_?” Jesus, what is wrong with Max, Billy’s gonna pass out.

Steve swallows visibly, her eyes darting between them before coming to rest on Billy. “I’m a good student.”

“You’re a shitty student,” Billy says incredulously, because that much is true, and she doesn’t know what else to say. Or do. She has no idea what’s going on, what the _fuck_.

Steve laughs, dragging a hand through her hair. “Well, yeah...but I’m good at this. I promise.”

“If you’re so good at this, then why do you need me to teach you?”

“God, just – well, you don’t have to, I guess,” she mumbles, looking away. Billy thinks she might be close to bolting, and something surges up in her throat.

“No, I’ll do it,” she hurries to say, “m’sure you can learn something from me, Harrington.”

Billy hesitates when Steve doesn’t reply, but then shuffles closer on the bed, terrified that she’s reading this wrong but even more terrified to miss her one chance to see where this is going. She leans in and watches the rejection on Steve’s face melt into anticipation, her eyes flutter closed.

“You don’t have to,” Steve sighs just before their lips meet.

“Shut up.”

Billy doesn’t go slow, like she did with Max. She gives it her all, takes Steve’s bottom lip between hers, and sucks, nibbles, coaxes her mouth open with her tongue. She wants to rile Steve up, always wants to rile her up, get a reaction out of her, get her to _push back._

And she does. _God_ , she does. She meets Billy with just as much force, knows exactly how to use her clever tongue and her plush lips to make Billy hazy and weak with it.

Billy half-thought Steve would pull away, disgusted, laughing, saying it was all a joke, but instead she’s bringing her hands up to frame Billy’s face with long fingers, thumbs stroking her cheeks, digging in softly as she clutches at her and pulls her impossibly closer.

Steve Harrington wants to kiss girls. It’s a revelation.

And Billy can’t hold back anymore, licks into Steve’s mouth, pushes at her until she laid out on her back, Billy on top of her, propped up on her elbows.

“ _Shit_ ,” Max breathes out next to them, and Billy’s almost forgotten she was here.

She turns her head to look at Max, who’s watching them with wide eyes, hands fisted in the bedspread, biting her lip, looking turned on and a little lost, and Billy reaches out to her, steadying herself on one arm. Max lets herself be pulled in, close enough for Billy to lean up and press a kiss to her lips, soft, questioning. Waits for Max to deepen the kiss while Steve nuzzles and nips at her neck.

It’s hard to think, the only thing running through her head besides _holy fuck, is this happening_ is to get closer, so much closer to both of them.

Max sounds almost as turned on as Billy feels when she pulls away to speak.

“Have you ever had sex with a girl?” she asks Billy.

Billy sits up a bit, half straddling Steve’s legs, so she can look at Max properly. Too dazed to give her anything but the truth, she simply says, “Yes.”

Max bites her lip, fidgets. “Have you, like. With your mouth?” Her cheeks turn red, but she doesn’t look away.

“Yeah.”

Max looks at Steve, who’s still lying there, spread out on the bed, then back at Billy. “You could...show me. If you want.”

“You want me to teach you how to eat a girl out?” Billy feels light-headed. Wants to, so badly. _Christ_.

Max nods. “If Steve’s okay with it.”

Steve makes a choked-off noise, finally taking Billy’s attention off Max. “You – on me?” she squeaks.

And, oh, Jesus, Max wants her to eat Steve out, and Billy’s gonna _die_. Her eyes dart between the two, unsure if she wants to beg Max to stop or beg Steve to say yes.

“Would you – can I?” Billy’s voice is rough, strangled, too turned on.

Steve nods quickly, lips parted, eyes wide and dark, hair fanned out on the bed. She’s so fucking beautiful. Billy wants to _devour_ her. She leans down and kisses her deeply, flicks at her cupid’s bow with her tongue, pulls back slightly. Steve lifts her head to try and follow her, pull her back into another kiss, but Billy shuffles down on her knees to press kisses down Steve’s neck, pulls the collar of her pink sweater down to get at her clavicles.

Steve sits up, then, to take her sweater and shirt off in one swoop, sitting there in just jeans and a white lacy bra, her glorious chest on display, and Billy’s mouth waters. She feels like she’s starving, knows that she’s staring, but can’t find it in herself to stop.

“Oh, shit,” Steve says with breathless laughter, “You _have_ been staring at my tits.”

Billy’s face heats up, and she leans in for a rough kiss. “Shut the fuck up. God, you’re annoying.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Have you been looking at me in the shower?” Steve asks between desperate kisses, choked with how turned on she is.

“ _Yes._ Of course I fucking looked. Couldn’t take my eyes off you, baby, you’re so fucking hot.”

“ _Shit_.”

Billy strokes her hands over Steve’s stomach, her sides, marveling at the soft skin, then cups her tits over the lace. They’re soft and heavy, filling her hands out so perfectly. She nips at Steve’s lips. “So fucking hot.”

Steve begins to unbutton Billy’s shirt and suddenly Max is there as well, helping her, pulling the shirt off Billy’s shoulders. She’s not wearing a bra, barely ever does if she can get away with it, and she presses her bare tits into Steve’s hands when she feels her tentative touch.

Max rearranges herself to press her chest against Billy’s back and pulls her hair to the side to kiss her neck once, twice, before reaching for Steve’s jeans. Together, they get Steve undressed and laid out on the bed before them, the two of them pressed together shoulder to shoulder between her bent, splayed open legs.

“Start slow,” Billy tells Max, stroking her fingers over Steve. She’s already wet, and it makes Billy feel hot all over, knowing she did that to her. “Just kiss her a bit. Lick her clit. Take your time.”

Max lowers her mouth and does exactly as Billy said, making Steve’s breath hitch, her legs tense, press against Billy’s side.

Billy watches them, close enough to hear the slick sounds of her tongue.

She’s thought about this, thought she’d be jealous if she saw Steve and Max together like this, but it’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen, hands down. Two weeks ago, she never would have dreamed she could have either of them, let alone both. _Together_. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve this, feels like she’s burning up slowly, wonderfully.

Once Steve’s worked up enough to grind her hips up in small circles, Billy tells Max to get her tongue inside her, sneaks her own arm around Steve’s thigh and over her hip to keep her from moving around too much.

She’d say she’s doing it only to make it easier for Max, but really she just enjoys the desperate little noises Steve makes while she’s being held down. The way she grabs at Billy’s arm with one hand, not pulling her off but _pressing down_ , keeping her right there as her moans get louder and louder.

And Billy can’t help herself, can’t wait any longer, has to get her fingers inside of Steve.

Steve’s so fucking wet with her own arousal and Max’s spit that Billy can slide two fingers inside her smoothly, can feel her clench hot and tight around her as she moves.

She crooks her fingers and works her over as much as she can, hand twisted uncomfortably to make enough room for Max to keep licking and sucking on her clit, but she ignores it, focused only on the way Steve’s twitching and writhing under them.

Billy turns her head and sucks a mark into the soft skin of Steve’s inner thigh, bites at it as she moves her fingers faster, rubbing inside of Steve harder, willing her hand not to cramp up, watches Max’s head bob, and it doesn’t take long until Steve clenches around her and lets out a strangled moan, her fingers digging hard into Billy’s arm where she’s still holding onto her, before going limp all over.

All three of them are panting harshly, and Steve lets out a breathless “ _Holy shit_ ,” still twitching slightly around Billy’s fingers.

Next to her, Max lifts her head and moves against Billy’s shoulder like she’s going to sit up, and, no.

Billy pulls her fingers out of Steve and takes Max’s hand where it’s still digging into her thigh to stop her. Guides her to put her own fingers where Billy’s just were. “Don’t stop now,” she says around a grin, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. It’s probably too late to pretend this isn’t affecting her, anyway.

She watches as Max’s eyes light up and she leans back down and latches her mouth to Steve’s clit at the same time as she pushes her finger inside, earning a surprised moan from Steve, who’s soon straining against Billy’s arm even more than before.

Steve looks fucking delicious. Decadent. All spread out for them, long limbs and soft skin begging to be touched, one measly mark Billy left on her thigh nowhere near enough to satisfy her urge to _mark her up_. But Billy takes a moment to just watch as Steve’s hips stutter at the overstimulation, head thrown back, exposing her pale neck, _unmarked_ , mouth open and wet and red and panting.

Steve opens her eyes, half-lidded stare flitting over Max, then fixing on Billy.

God, she wants to put her mouth on Steve so badly, she’s almost sad that Max is occupying the space between her legs.

She wants to put her mouth _all over_ Steve, taste and touch and mark every inch of her body.

She’s wanted her for so long. Longer than she’d ever admit out loud, and maybe she wouldn’t be so embarrassed by it, wouldn’t feel like her insides are being torn to shreds by the way Steve’s looking at her, if that was all. If all she wanted was to fuck her. If she didn’t have – fucking, _feelings_ , or whatever.

But it’s fine. Even if this is the only time she’s getting this, she’ll just make the most of it. Seems like it might not be, though. If she plays her cards right, she’s pretty sure there’s gonna be a few repeats of this. That’s all she needs. Not as if she expects Steve to _like_ her or anything, not after everything she did to her.

It’s fine.

Her fingers are still sticky, and she puts the tip of them in her mouth, licks over them just to get a taste. Moans a little, a small, involuntary noise. _God_. She’s definitely gonna have to get her mouth on Steve someday. She’s about to suck her fingers good, lick them clean, when she sees Steve’s eyes flicker down to her hand, and the look on her face sends a thrill through her body. Jesus, she looks fucking _hungry_ for it. And Billy is more than happy to feed her.

She shuffles over on her knees, and leans down, her face inches from Steve. The tip of her finger is still in her mouth, and Steve’s eyes are drawn to it.

Billy lets her finger slip out of her mouth and brings it to Steve’s instead, whose lips are already parted, warm and willing and waiting, closing around the tip as soon as it nudges against her, and she’s being so eager, so _obedient_ it goes straight to Billy’s head, and she pushes both of her fingers into Steve’s mouth. Steve moans, at the taste of herself or Billy’s spit or the feeling of two fingers pressing down on her tongue or whatever Max is doing to her, Billy doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care as long as Steve keeps looking at her with feverishly bright eyes. Steve gasps around Billy’s fingers at something Max does, and Billy licks at her parted lips, can feel her tongue on her own fingers, can feel Steve’s hand come up and clutch at her arms.

She takes her fingers out of Steve’s mouth to snatch her hand and press it against the bed above Steve’s head, and kisses Steve for real, and it’s almost like she’d forgotten how good Steve’s mouth felt only twenty or so minutes ago, because fuck, she doesn’t know how she ever stopped, how she ever _will_ stop again, feels like she’s destined to lick into Steve’s mouth for the rest of her _life_.

When Steve comes on Max’s mouth and fingers, it’s like Billy can feel the echo in her bones, shock waves passed through Steve’s biting kiss. It’s _so_ , so good, just watching Steve tense up with pleasure, again, taste the relief in her panting breath, and she hasn’t even come herself yet. She never thought she’d get to see her like this, let alone more than once.

Steve lets her head fall back to the bed with a moan, breaking the kiss. “God, I can’t believe this is happening,” she says, echoing Billy’s thoughts. “Been wanting this for _ages_. I thought you hated me.”

Billy laughs, out of breath. “Gonna kill me. You wanted me even though I was a raging bitch the whole time? What, were you turned on by me being mean to you?”

And the thing is, she was _joking_ , but then Steve looks like she’s blushing even on top of the flush that already paints her cheeks an irresistible shade of red, and her gaze flits to Max, whose face is still flushed and wet and split into a grin.

“You’re a fast fucking learner, Maxine, I’ll give you that,” Billy says, voice rough from how turned on she is.

Max beams at her, and Billy’s heart clenches, and she feels a little light-headed when she thinks about how good this feels, the three of them, like this, and how neither of them has shot her an annoyed glare once in the last hour, how there’s no inexplicable itch under her skin urging her to ruin this. How, for once, she actually believes she hasn’t ruined it _already_.

And when Steve asks her, sweetly and doe-eyed in a way that _must_ be put on, if she would teach her next, Billy’s happy to oblige.


End file.
